


The Cat in the Warehouse

by Emppuko



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Polyamory, Russian Mafia, Swearing, Torture, Violence, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-21 07:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11352489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emppuko/pseuds/Emppuko
Summary: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me a third time and it could be your death.St. Petersburg's streets are not safe from the Bratva's watchful eyes, and their wrath will be hell on those who dare to betray them.





	The Cat in the Warehouse

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was beta read by Merkitty. :)   
> ChillMaldigga helped me with the summary. :) 
> 
> (I don't know how to put hyperlinks, sorry)

In an alley of Saint Petersburg’s city center, a black cat is watching as two persons, a man and a woman, run away from a group of four in black suits. There is fear in the pair’s eyes, and angry shouting trailing behind them. The cat is sitting on a fire escape's second level, golden eyes glowing, observing the scene below him.

The pursuers shoot the man into his leg, stopping his escape. The man howls in pain and falls to the ground.

“Igorek!” the woman halts her actions and rushes to her lover’s side. She tries to lift her partner up, but Igor is heavy and she is too exhausted from continuous running. The woman falls to the ground with Igor but gets quickly up deciding to abandon him.

“Anya...? Don’t do this,” Igor pleads.

They both are now panicking, one dreading being left alone at the mercy of their pursuers and the other mulling over whether to leave her partner or not.

The black cat waves his tail lazily and starts slowly walking down the fire escape. The cat was in no hurry to go to his master’s side.

The chasing group catches their escapees and tackle them harshly so they wouldn't continue their futile escape.

“Please don’t. I don’t want this. No. I’m innocent. I swear we didn’t betray the Pakhan,” Anya and Igor struggle for freedom but their efforts are in vain.

“Shut the hell up!” a man with a black hair yells at the struggling pair.

“Geor- Gosha, you understand me! Please, help me. Igorek, no…Igor abused me, I’m innocent,” Anya whines but Georgi tightens his grip around her. The woman starts to cry in fear and ruin her perfect makeup.

“You, bitch don’t fucking lie to him! You told me where the fucking drugs were and used me to steal them,” the man groans angrily in pain feeling growing ache in his leg.

“What? Gosha, you know I’m speaking the truth. I swear-” Anya tries to reason with her fiancé but her words are stopped by a silencing rag on her mouth. Igor gets the same treatment as his lover.

“Wow, they’re hella noisy. How the fuck did you manage with them on the same Brigade, Georgi?” a red haired woman, Mila, questions her partner and then chirps to the pair, “now, now. The Pakhan is very angry at you two. So, play nice and do as you are told. Then everything will be easier. As you know, he is a busy man. And if you continue this farce, you are ruining his romantic dinner arrangements with his husband.”

Now all of the cat’s soft paws touch the ground, and he strolls leisurely past everyone, chasers and escapees.

At the end of the alley, a black car has appeared and is now waiting for the black cat, a back door opened by an old man in black suit. Another man, with a silver hair and sky blue eyes, is waiting for the cat’s arrival. The group of four has started to drag the runaways to the other two black cars behind the car the black cat is heading to.

The cat hops in and the old man, Yakov, closes the car's rear door behind the cat and goes to take the driver's seat. The cat moves to the silver-haired man's lap and lies down.

"Let's go to the warehouse," Viktor commands after glancing at his Rolex wristwatch. They had just enough time - about an hour.

Yakov starts the engine and soon all three cars are moving. Viktor’s right hand affectionately pets his cat, Yura, who starts contently purring, feeling his master's loving hand on his head.

 

* * *

 

Three black cars drive through Saint Petersburg’s center to a more secluded place. The cars park in front of a shabby run-down warehouse. This building is a good place to question for information and if necessary, torture. No one would hear screams echoing through the corridors.

Yakov walks around the car and opens the door for Viktor and Yura. The cat smoothly hops off his master's lap. Viktor also gets off the car and, standing next to Yura, readjusts his Armani suit.

The escapees emerge from the other cars with guns appointed to their heads, both looking beaten-up and in poor shape. Anya had stopped crying and has ruined her make up. Igor’s leg has stopped bleeding, but the bullet left a red stain on his jeans. Everyone walks inside the warehouse, past the front door guarded by a man, past long corridors leading to a gloomy room.

The room was huge. The walls and floor were covered with some dirt and old blood stains. The smell was no better, filled with the stench of blood and oil. On the left, there was a wall full of various tools and torturing instruments, a flamethrower and a metal wire among them. On the right, there was a big furnace, large enough to hold up to two grown men. Above the furnace one could see a sunlight seeping through windows’ blinds. And finally in the middle of the room, there were two torturing chairs.

The chairs looked like innocent looking wooden chairs with armrests. They had some detrition but otherwise they were in good shape. The only difference was that they had leathery straps attached to them. One could easily bind victims to these chairs and have no trouble torturing them.

The group’s only cat disliked this room. ‘Why was I brought here?’ he thinks.

Anya and Igor yelp as they are thrown onto the cold ground. The Pakhan’s subordinates immediately start to beat their escapees, and Viktor and Yura just stand there watching the situation, not saying a word.

The Pakhan raises his hand and everyone stops, not daring to take a breath. Yakov takes a cigar from his breast pocket and offers it to the Pakhan. Viktor takes it, and Yakov reaches down to his pants’ pocket and pulls out a lighter. He lights up the cigar for the Pakhan. Viktor brings it to his mouth and breaths in and out, releasing a smoke ring. Viktor knows very well that Yura hates his bad habit of smoking, especially that tobacco smell. But he does it anyway, to look more like the head of Russia's mafia, the Pakhan.

Now that the torture room also smelled of tobacco, Yura walks away from Viktor to near the oven, disapproving of his actions. The man quickly grumbles for disappointing his cat and turns his attention to the pair.

“Anya. Igor. Do you know why you are here wasting my time?” Viktor asks, voice calm as ever, and inhales his cigar. No one knew how furious he was inside, except his cat, who wasn't happy either.

“No! This is misunderstanding, Pakhan. I did nothing to deserve this,” Igor answers, earning a kick to his aching leg from a young-golden haired lad, Yuri.

“How dare you lie to Papa!” Yuri growls and kicks more.

“Then why did you run away? Anya, you were the only one, besides Papa and Yakov, who knew the passcode to the safe which contained most of our drugs. And you, Igor, disappeared at the same time with her, when we found that the safe was empty. Suspicious isn’t it?” Georgi questions.

“I didn’t break into the safe. It could have been Lilia! She has the code too. Why me?” Anya shakes her head in panic.

“Well…Madam Baranovskaya wasn’t in the country when the drugs disappeared. She was with the Pakhan’s husband in Switzerland meeting Mister Giacometti,” Mila lists.

“Anya, you have been acting suspiciously ever since you got the passcode,” Georgi adds.

“No, I was happy that I was finally told the code. It’s a great honor to know it. Everyone knows how valuable those drugs are,” Anya says, trying her best not to sound frightened.

“And, that’s exactly why you’re in this position. Your pathetic life is nothing compared to the drugs,” Yakov points out.

“Igorek, my love, they don’t understand me. Help me. Please help me, Igorek,” Anya pleads turning her head towards to Igor and shows him her tear-stained, pleading face.

“Fuck no! You were about to abandon me, weren’t you,” Igor spits making Anya startle.

“No, I- I was about to go get some help,” Anya tries.

“Ha, what a lying bitch you are. You accused me back on the alley that I had abused you, threatened you to steal the drugs,” Igor continues.

“Igorek, I love you. I wasn’t on my right mind back there. I still do love you, Igorek. You know that, right?” Anya continues to still try.

The Pakhan glances his Rolex again. He had less than a ten minutes.

“Great,” Viktor mumbles disappointedly, he was going to be late for dinner.

The Pakhan’s men force Anya and Igor to the different torture chairs, binding their throats, waists, and legs. Now they couldn’t move freely.

“Now, tell me where did you hid my drugs and I might let you go depending on your answer,” Viktor asks again, this time more demanding.

“I said I don’t know anything. Please believe me!” Anya sobs.

“Shut up, you fucking slut!” Yuri punches on her face, annoyed from Anya’s constant lies.

“Yuri…Papa’s little Yurachka, you’re just a little pup who hasn’t even presented yet. Are you gonna stay like that forever? Too frail aren’t you? Or maybe, you’re just a mere human? Your kicks and punches are nothing. No wonder you were abandoned by your parents!” Igor laughs through his pain. “You don’t even know how to punch this lying bitch.”

“What did you say?!” Yuri snarls and turns his glance at the older man.

Yuri’s attempt to walk to Igor is stopped by Yakov, who grabs the pup’s shoulder. “He is just riling you up.”

“This is getting us nowhere,” Pakhan sighs. “Otabek!”

“Yes, sir!” One of the men takes up a toolbox and starts carefully inspecting torturing instruments. He draws out a rusty old nail and a used hammer, causing both, Anya and Igor, to freeze. Otabek walks calmly towards the weaker one of the pair.

“This is your last warning,” Otabek murmurs.

Anya says nothing, silent as dead looking at the Bratok, who is now on his knees taking better position. Otabek places the nail between his victim’s right arm’s two bones, radius and ulna, and raises his hammer to the air. The hammer hits the nail’s head firmly making its victim scream.

‘Anya is weaker than I thought. She should be tougher than this, ’ the black cat thinks. His eyes don’t flinch as being used to seeing this.

Anya’s tears flow uncontrollably. Her blood drops down to an already bloody floor creating a small puddle around her legs. Her hand makes no attempt of healing up. Otabek stands up and goes for his toolbox again, taking a thicker nail.

The Bratok walks to Anya’s side again but this time, places the second nail on her right wrist, next to the previous nail.

“I’ll tell! I’ll tell!” Anya yelps, between her tears, before the Bratok has time to raise his hammer again. Viktor hums happily finally getting some information. Otabek backs off from Anya, so she could talk to the Pakhan directly. “We sold them…”

Everyone in the room is intrigued. The black cat narrows his eyes and tries to assimilate the new information.

“You, bitch!” Igor shouts angrily and spits at her. “How dare you betray me! I protected your sorry ass on all those missions. When we are over with this, I’ll fucking tear you apart, limb by limb, until you’re fucking unrecognizable. Hah, no one would be able to burry you, ‘cause there would be nothing left of you, Bitch!”

Anya turns her head away from Igor, screwing her eyes shut.

Viktor slightly tilts his head left and Mila acts immediately, putting a rag on Igor’s mouth, muffling his words.

Anya shifts her glance back to the Pakhan. “We sold them to Jean-Jacques Leroy. He was supposed to come tonight and inspect them personally before we could close the deal.”

“So that’s why there have been more gang fights recently. Leroy must have sent his men to check our territory,” Yuri speculates.

Viktor stiffens, his eyes slowly shifting to his cat, who had started hissing. Yakov brings his hand to his head, a worry in his demeanor. The Pakhan’s other underlings seem unfazed about the information but no one in the room is fast enough to catch the terror in their Pakhan’s eyes, their heads also turned to the source of the hissing sound.

Viktor knew he was doomed now that Yuri had revealed to everyone that they have had gang fights. Their Bratva was supposed to stay quietly in shadows of Russian government and bribe the politicians unnoticed. He had agreed that with his husband.

“Why?” Yakov returns everyone’s attention back to Anya.

“We were supposed to sell the drugs to Mister Leroy in exchange for our freedom. I didn’t want to marry Georgi, whom I didn’t even love,” Anya looks at the floor. “I guess I don’t need that freedom anymore.”

“Anya…” Georgi feels gutted. “What was wrong with me? Wasn’t I enough for you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Gosha… You wouldn't have understood, you were too overbearing. You tried too hard for us. Then Igor came, and I saw a way out. I know that I was also meant to have an engagement with Igor before we were to marry each other. But I couldn’t. I would have resented our marriage for the rest of my life,” Anya regrets.

“So, where are the drugs now?” Yakov asks.

Anya stays silent and bits her tongue.

“Anya,” Viktor demands.

“They are in the Pulkovo Airport,” She lets out. “The drugs are inside of is a green Lada, which number plate is E601ST-60. The car is in the airport’s parking garage, located on the 3rd floor. Igor knows where the keys are.”

“Igor, where are the keys?” Georgi takes the rag from Igor’s mouth but gets a snort as an answer.

Georgi ponders for a moment and talks to the Bratok, “I’m afraid we need to change our victim, Altin. What a shame. I didn’t want you to torture your previous teacher.”

“It’s not a problem, sir. Let’s see if he made me a fine Bratok,” Otabek replies.

“Pakhan, you can leave the rest to them. They are capable enough handling this alone. You don’t have to waste your time with these betrayers. You have a dinner with your husband after this, remember?“ Yakov reminds the Pakhan, and Viktor nods in agreement.

Viktor finishes his cigar, drops it to a trash can by the doorway and lets it to extinguish by itself. Viktor, Yura, Yakov and Yuri walk away from scene, leaving Anya’s sobs and Igor’s' beatings behind.

They walk silently back to the cars. Yuri opens the back door for Viktor and Yura. Viktor goes in but Yura walks past him and sits on the opposite back seat. Viktor whines when not being able to pet his cat on the way back home. Yuri closes the door hastily and takes the front seat. Yakov sits on the driver’s seat and starts the engine.

The black car departs from the warehouse, leaving two other cars behind.

 

* * *

 

It takes them less than twenty minutes to arrive at home. It is an old western styled mansion, which has been recently renovated. It has three stories and a basement where all their guns and important documents are. The mansion’s garden is groomed, full of different kinds of plants, making the mansion look like any other typical upscale mansion.

When the car stops at the courtyard, Yura’s door is opened by Yakov. With a quick, smooth movement, the cat hops off and runs through the courtyard towards the mansion’s left wing, not wanting to wait for his master. Yura climbs to a tree near the mansion and jumps inside through a second-floor window. This particular window was always left open whenever one of this mansion’s owners weren’t at home.

Viktor groans as he sees his cat running away and opens his door before Yuri has time to do his job. His cat is unhappy and his mate would be angrily waiting for him after finding out what happened at the warehouse. Even if Viktor looked calm, full of leadership and masculine energy, inside he felt like a beaten-up street dog whose master had abandoned him. He feared his mate’s wrath which was surely waiting for him in their bedroom.

Taking confident steps towards the front door, he is greeted by bowing servants. Viktor ignores them walking past them to the entrance, his mind full of other things.

The interior of the mansion is lavish. Its decoration has a mix of 1800 centuries and contemporary feel, high walls and granite floors, both being white with an accented dark brown color. Viktor walks through the first and the second entrances to a great hall. There are two grand stairways which lead to upstairs where all the bedrooms are. Viktor continues through a long hallway and is met by French doors - the doors of this mansion’s master bedroom.

Viktor reaches for the doorknob but halts his actions. His hand is nervously shaking. If he could act as the Pakhan, leader of the Russia’s infamous mafia, Bratva, why couldn’t he open the fucking door? Because he was an anxious shit, anxious fearing what was on the other side of the doors.

A sweatdrop running down his forehead, he opens the doors. The master bedroom is as exquisite as the rest of the mansion is. On his left, is a door to the master bathroom, and on his right, is an arch opening to the main bedroom. He closes the French doors behind him and walks past the master bedroom’s entrance to the main area. There is a Japanese man in a loose bathrobe waiting for him next to their king sized bed. The black cat is nowhere to be seen.

Before Viktor could take a step inside, he is hit by a slap to his cheek.

“Viktor, how dare you do this to me? Why didn’t you tell me about the gang fights? We were supposed to stay quiet,” Yuuri shouts angrily at him, resulting Viktor to flinch by a sudden attack. Viktor also realises that Yuuri had called him ‘Viktor’, not ‘Vitya’. Only when you break your relationship, do you revert to calling your lovers with their real names.

“Yuuri, please calm down,” a Russian man tries to plead before the shorter Japanese man. He had to repair their relationship. Where was all his Pakhan confidence from an hour ago? Right, it all disappeared when Yuri had mentioned their grave situation.

“You’re just a random street dog, who can’t do anything on its own. I shouldn’t have left you in charge,” Yuuri continues his accusations. Viktor just listens to his husband not daring to interrupt him. “I’m very disappointed in you.”

“I didn’t want to cause you worry, darling,” Viktor tries to reason but Yuuri is having none of that.

“Well, you did! I leave you in charge for two weeks and you just magically make things go from good to hellishly bad. How the hell did you even live 23 years without me helping you out on every single thing? When you make mistakes, it reflects directly on me. You make me look weak! If you’re so damned to not tell me about important things, try running the whole Bratva for the rest of your life alone like your life depends on it. And while you’re at it, you can say goodbye to our marriage!” Yuuri yells at him.

This is what Viktor feared. Yuuri could continue this for days, his wrath was something to not be taken lightly, even in the mafia. It caused problems in the whole Bratva and that is why some feared him more than Viktor, the Pakhan. Although most of them knew Yuuri as a normal human being, who was usually calm and collected, when angered (which wasn’t often and someone had done a grave mistake), everyone knew to be afraid of Pakhan’s husband.

If Yuuri and Viktor had a fight, at the worst Yuuri would leave Russia and go to his hometown in Japan, Hasetsu. And how did Viktor know about this? Because they had a fight over a year ago and Yuuri had left him. Yuuri didn’t come back even after months of pleading until Viktor had to beg for his mate’s return, face on the ground asking for forgiveness. The begging was humiliating, but Viktor had to do anything for his Yuuri’s forgiveness. No one in the Bratva was brave enough to mention that unforgettable scene between husbands.

Not wanting to lengthen their fight, Viktor lands his lips on Yuuri’s and kisses him passionately. Yuuri’s brown eyes widen in surprise but they are quickly changed back to anger. Viktor earns a punch on his gut and retraces his steps in pain, which was caused by none other than his loving mate. Not just anyone could hit Viktor, who had been trained for combat since he was born.

“What makes you think that a kiss would solve anything, Viktor?” Yuuri hisses and gives Viktor another slap on his face. Yuuri huffs angrily and lets his hands drop. He clenches his fists, which shake slightly trying to calm himself.

Viktor sighs in relief after knowing that he had succeeded in calming down his husband. Yuuri looks at the floor and is quiet for a moment, not being sure what to say.

“Yuuri,” Viktor begins, trying to collect himself. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that we had major problems. Even I didn’t know that Anya and Igor’s actions would cause some disturbance in the streets. Look, I’m really sorry that I let all of that happen over the two weeks when you were in Switzerland, and end results weren’t what we expected. I tried to make things so you wouldn’t need to shoulder everything on your own. And...”

“Vitya,” Yuuri interrupts Viktor’s speech hugging him, his face against Viktor’s chest. “I’m sorry that I overreacted badly, and I said mean things about you. Sorry...”

Yuuri pauses for a moment and raises his head to look Viktor in the eyes. “But I do mean that hiding important things causes problems in the Bratva. Maybe we should communicate more often and be more open?”

“Yeah, you’re right. We should definitely practice our communication, which clearly isn’t working right now,” Viktor hugs his husband back and meets Yuuri’s gaze, a smile forming on his lips. Yuuri had used his nickname, which meant that their relationship was returned to a mate pair, and husband and husband.

“We do have a dinner date tonight. We should have dates like that at least twice a week instead of once in two months. We should hang out like any normal married couples; go to see movies and go to eat expensive dinners. And, we should take a vacation and go to Hawaii or Madagascar, or see the world when business isn’t related to. Our romantic life may be a mess but hey, our sex life is in a perfect condition,” Viktor continues lovingly.

“Vitya...! We are- aren’t like some normal couple! In our line of work, we can’t have any of that romantic stuff and you know it,” Yuuri looks away, trying to hide his blush. Viktor sees it all though. The redness which starts from his lover’s neck, going all the way to his ears and the nervousness in his voice when trying to avoid talking about their private life. No one was allowed to see Yuuri in this state, no one.

“Yuuriiii,” Viktor pouts. “We can always try…”

“You’re impossible”, younger man hums.

“And you, my dear, are my lovely husband and mate, whom I married three years ago,” Viktor says and kisses Yuuri again. This time he doesn’t receive a hard punch, but instead, he gets Yuuri’s answer to his kiss.


End file.
